Disclaimer: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers and all characters in the following story that are from the television and Original Animated Video (OAV) series, (GaiDen, The Legend of Kikoutei, Message) are the properties of Sunrise Animation/Nagoya TV/Sony Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Motivation: Why I "Dood" It -

Because Luna is hot! At least I think so. Like most in the YST/RW fandom, I learned about GaiDen on the Internet and the attraction between Ryo and Luna. So I had to get a video copy of GaiDen and view it for myself to confirm my own impressions –- and I actually got goose bumps. I still do.

But two main points stuck out for me. First, Ryo and Luna immediately struck me as Yin and Yang -- Sun and Moon, Day and Night, Dragon and Tiger, opposites on the same coin. And seeing how she was such a little firecracker herself, I knew she could've kept hotheaded Ryo on his toes –- had she lived.

Second, even her name, after the ancient Roman moon goddess, falls right into that mythological vein, hence the title, TigerMoon. We all know by now that she died a very poignant death at the end. But anyone who knows something about moon mythology and its connection with death and the underworld knows that death is not an ending, but only a transitional phase. This fanfic is written with those themes as the basis of its motivating spirit. It is also written in the spirit of Yoroiden Samurai Troopers instead of Ronin Warriors. It may be wishful thinking, but in my opinion despite what the folks at Sunrise say, the three OAVs are incomplete; they did not finish telling the story of the Troopers lives and their adventures. After all, they did get new yoroi (armor).

[R] Restricted-Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian : This signifies that the rating board has concluded that the film rated contains some adult material. Parents are urged to learn more about the film before taking their children to see it. An R may be assigned due to, among other things, a film's use of language, theme, violence, sex or its portrayal of drug use. (As adopted by FanFiction.Net Content Guidelines)

Rating: R –

I really don't know how to properly categorized this because it has a little of everything. Considering the subject, yes, it has drama (angst) and romance (blush), but I'm trying to get a little action (yeah!) in there as well. Again, there are some mature themes, some harsh/vulgar language and violence.

I started this "project" over a year ago. However, I temporarily dropped it because, frankly, life got in the way. But in between time, I've had the pleasure of reading the works of some excellent fic writers whose stories I've found to be every bit as entertaining as those who get paid to do this for a living. So I've decided to get back in the saddle and finish what I started by putting this story to the test and exposing it to the light of public reviewing (gulp). I'm very open to constructive criticism, so don't be shy in giving me any feedback to help me become a better writer. Of course, encouraging words are most definitely welcomed ;-. As far as any typos or other related editing issues are concerned, please bear with me –- believe it or not, it really is hard to write and be your own editor. Just let me know and I'll be glad to fix it. So Without Further Ado...

TIGERMOON

by DK Cook (Crazy Cookie)

Chapter One - Prologue: Sakura Dreams

"...need me...can't...let them down..."

The spring rains finally came to an end. The evening's downpour nearly created a flashflood and could have washed away all the green new birth that carpeted through the Yamanashi valley forests and ravines. But the season's torrent had been replaced by the lullaby sounds of soft drizzle, its rhythmic pitter-patter muffling through the clean night air. Yet, seeping from this moment of tranquility, an unusually thick and steamy mist began to form. Mingling with the cooler air, it rose from the leaves and the moss, from stone-covered paths and over rocky streams, and drifted off alpine trees that covered the rolling mountain hills. Like a serpentine dragon that climbed to heaven, this spirit of nature summoned its arcane essence over the Yamanashi landscape –- transcending it into the Land of the Kami:

"...be strong...no...don't leave..."

Slowly drawn across the night sky, the few remaining rain clouds parted -- nature's nocturnal veil that traversed the realms between heaven and earth, between the light and the dark –- and between life and death –- revealing the ethereal beauty of a full moon. The moon beamed a path of light beyond a mountain cabin bedroom window, the paned glass still water-streaked from the rains, until her rays rested upon the tortured subconscious of Sanada Ryo. With her soft highlights she caressed his face like a gentle lover, as he valiantly fought between sweat-soaked sheets:

"...please...don't...my friends...I'm sorrr..."

Damn them, it was those inner demons again, trying to take him away from her by replaying their painful images of loss and failure to cruelly torture him in his dreams:

"Come Rekka, let us play with you this night..."

"N-no...no! Jun...Nasutei...Seiji...gotta save...

Korin?"

It was the green yoroi, Korin, the armor of light with No-Dachi, the shuriken-hilted sword and armor extension of Korin, lumbering through the center of a surreal downtown Manhattan, made up of bizarre tall buildings and deserted wide streets.

Through unforeseen events, Korin had fallen into the wrong hands and was manipulated into a soulless armor for evil, while No-Dachi, once wield with pride in the name of good to cut through evil's dark lies and deceptions, was now being serviced in the name of the wicked. This was evident by the blood of its victims that bled profusely from the gaping holes of Korin's face-protector and oozed thickly over the plates of its body armor.

This unnerving vision filled Ryo's closed eyes, as his subconscious smelled the stench of hot blood that nauseatingly singed his nostrils. Korin suddenly came to an abrupt halt in a seemingly vacant Times Square. Menacingly, Korin then held No-Dachi with both hands high overhead and shifted into a ready stance to strike down its next victim, the half-drained naked form of Date Seiji, now positioned in its murderous path. Seiji was strung up in a confusion of wires and electrodes while his small, doll-like body contorted and shook with pain. He had become a perverse marionette, manipulated by the pleasures of the smirking Master Scientist, who was totally in command at the console of his computer data "brain":

"Seiji...hold on! I'm coming...!"

Now fully armored and battle-ready, Ryo felt his reflexes launch his body into action. Fueled by uncontrollable anger and disgust, he gritted his teeth and burned with determination to rescue his friend with the help of his twin katanas, Rekka Ken. But instead of victory, Ryo found himself strangling. Snatched in mid-air by an unseen attack, a wave of multi-stranded filaments pulled and contracted like coiling tentacles around his throat, slashing his face and armor –- controlled by the dark will in the degenerative altered form of Shikaisen. Unable to break free from the tendrils, Ryo gasped for air. Tears from pain and frustration burned his eyes as he helplessly watched his friend writhed in agony, more dead than alive, while pressure created by the multi-stranded snare began to crack his own red yoroi.

But when Korin's terrible sword finally cleaved down, it was Jun and Nasutei that were brutally executed in one, torso-rendering stroke. The rush of the heavy blade cutting through the air, the screams of shock, and the sick gushing of their lives rung horribly in Ryo's ears.

It was hard to believe that it had been nine months. Nearly a year had passed since the Troopers' returned from America, but their battle to rescue their brother-in-arms from the evil wizardry of the necromancer, Shikaisen, continued to haunt Ryo in his dreams. Beads of tension ran down the sides of his face:

"DIE...SHIKAISEN!! SEN Kooo zeee...*"

Nearly suffocating in an outbreak of sweat, Ryo suddenly inhaled a welcomed sigh of relief, as displays of colorful party streamers, poppers and echoes of laughter came to his rescue. Party animals Shu and Shin were at it again, kidding around and pouring drinks into each other's hair at his sixteenth surprise birthday party, which was privately catered in one of the most elegant hotel rooms that Nasutei could arrange and Ryo had ever seen.

Ryo could barely remember the last time the day of his birth was so incredibly celebrated. Before his "link" with the other four, with the exception of Byakuen, he really had no one to share his happy moments –- or times of sadness. And although he had loved his father dearly, and his dad tried his best to be available, there never seemed to be enough time between them. The kind of time that all sons need from their fathers that would eventually help them to become men of their own. But Ryo understood at an early age that being a single parent, his father had to support them both as best as he knew how. Yet in the beginning, there were still those few special moments when it was just the two of them, when his dad introduced him to the open, outdoor beauty and freedom of nature and what he did as a photographer.

But, inevitably, as the months rolled into years, Ryo had lost him too, to his never-ending photographic excursions. Fate. Now that he was gone for good, the only thing Ryo could do was to mourn his death, and visit him through his dreams. Still, over the years of growing up alone, Ryo sometimes wondered if it was something else that kept his father away from him. Was it just fate? Or was it something too painful...that made Dad stay away? Ryo would wonder. His father told him once that his looks favored his mother.

Ryo could hardly recall his mother. Since she died when he was very young, the only memory he had of her was from the family photo shot that he kept in a frame and perched on the top of his dresser. There they were, all three of them together in one place, surrounded by the multi-colored outdoors of autumn with a small cabin peeking in the background, happily dwelling in a fairyland of changing maple leaves in the Yamanashi mountain wilderness. Truly, a precious moment in time.

Mom was curled between dad's outstretched legs as they sat on the blanket-covered grass, while Dad reached out and wrapped his arms around the small of her waist, warmly hugging her close to him right before the automatic timer of his camera went off. There they both were, wearing the broadest of grins with bits of fall clinging in their hair and on their clothes. And of course, Ryo himself in a little red jumper outfit, held up on a pair of still-wobbly legs by mom and about the age when he had just taken his first steps. A falling leaf had just caught his attention. He tried to reached out to it and save it from its fate. With loving approval of her first-born son's latest accomplishment, his mother's fingers had gently stroked through the ruffled locks of his jet-black hair already taking on its characteristic curl, an odd trait he inherited from his father. She was a pretty and petite young woman of twenty-three, who liked to wear her shoulder-length black hair pulled back into a single lacquered pony-tail, while a flaming red hair band framed her oval face and kept her bangs off her brow. Except for the few wisps that fell into the fiery cobalt blue of her eyes. Not a very conventional family portrait, but dad was never known for stepping in line, and apparently, neither was mom.

But what little Ryo knew about his mom was through his father, and even then, the man would rarely speak of her. But on that rare occasion when he did, his voice had cracked, as he described her as "captivating", and painfully sighed with regretfulness that "she was just too young to have been taken away".

Yet over time, Ryo learned to accept the solitude of having to grow up nearly on his own, and indeed at times, he rather enjoyed it. It gave him an inner fortitude and determination that he felt he otherwise wouldn't have, plus the added bonus of independence. However, there were those other days, though very few and very far between when the solitude became too much. Although he wasn't afraid of death, it was one those very rare days that he'd asked himself the question –- who would miss me if I were to die?

So it was such moments as his birthday party that made him treasure these new bonds of true friendship. He continued to savor the warm images and good feelings, as Nasutei, Jun and the rest of the team were once again introduced to Shu's "overly friendly", but good-hearted Uncle Chin. A slight smile curled across Ryo's dreaming face.

Then, she happened. This street-smart "wild girl" who ran through the concrete catacombs of New York. A kaleidoscope of emotions and contradictions invaded his dreams, as the face of the bold and determined Luna exploded onto his dreamscape –- and into Uncle Chin's restaurant.

Once again Ryo saw the visage of her rage and grief, as the jagged-spine blade of her Rambo knife slashed out for vengeance, when in error she attacked Touma for the death of her older brother. Then, as if he blinked for only a moment, he suddenly found himself alone with Touma. The both of them were in full armor gear and trapped –- trapped between the powerful demon-jaws of the law, while the grotesque and shadowy face of Shikaisen loomed over them, his vile and raspy laughter cackling into the air. Ryo could actual feel the jaws' hot, steamy breath pour over them as he struggled to prevent its salivating teeth from crunching down upon them and still support a wounded Tenku. But just as the full force of the law was about to snap it jaws shut, suddenly, she appeared to him once more and led them all to safety, the three of them racing through the underground of New York. Completely stunned by her unexpected kindness, Ryo felt himself smile once more. And once again, he saw that smile, shining from the light of her deep, dark eyes, and witnessed her inexplicable tenderness when she realized her mistake and cared for Touma's injuries.

Suddenly, Ryo felt himself being swept back to the very spot where they talked alone on the Brooklyn Bridge. The sun was setting over the New York skyline, yet its red and golden rays seemed to bathe a warm tangerine glow that was meant only for the two of them. Her brightly colored orange scarf and her long, black braid were caught in the winds off the bridge, like a streaming butterfly buffered about in a strong breeze. Maybe it was his imagination, but somehow, it seemed that her braid was actually teasing him with its twisted charm, as it fluttered through the winds with every gust. Then, once again, he could felt the same heat of her closeness that touched his heart, as she pressed her body against his and asked:

"Ryo, I'm a member of your team...aren't I?"

And once again, he found himself lost. She was an interesting contradiction, the phases of her character shifting like her namesake. One moment, she could be hard and sharp as the combat blade she always carried, willing to stand her ground and be afraid of no one, not even when faced against strong-man Shu, who confronted her within the sewers for her earlier attack at the restaurant. But when she let down her guard, she revealed her softer nature and became as supple as her braid that swayed in the winds. So at that moment when she gazed up at him, the wisps of her hair fell into pools of dark and pleading eyes that reflected the radiance of the sunset, the stirrings in her heart, and her desperation for revenge from their surface.

But then an icy sorrow plunged deep into his chest and gripped around his heart. That familiar feeling of shock and disbelief when to his horror, he watched her fall once more to her fate. On the bridge he couldn't permit himself to touch her, after all, this was a mission to save a friend and brother-in-arms. And...she came from a world much different than his. She was not Nihonjin, but Amerikajin, an African-American with a street-Harlem beat. At the time he thought that unexplained and personal feelings should best be pushed aside. But devastated by the grim reality of loosing this precious life forever, he cradled her broken body close to him –- too late. Mortally shattered from her confrontation with the evil Shikaisen, he felt her life slipping through his fingers as she slowly collapsed in his arms.

Yet, finally, she was in his arms. She had murmured his name -– for one last time. And one more time, she gave him a tiny, beautiful smile that eased across her face and over her suffering and grief:

"r-yo…*"

And when the light in her eyes that captivated his soul on the bridge began to leave this world of pain and sadness, he could not let her go. Still, he hopelessly grasped at the broken gossamer threads that was her life, as he tearfully watched them drift away. All that was left was the crushing reality and tormenting hurt that, as Wielder of the Soul Swords of Fervor –- he didn't have the power to save her.

In a flurry of Sakura blossoms, their tiny precious moment together had bloomed and died too soon before it ever had the chance to take root. Because throughout all the battle and turmoil, this fourteen year-old brash foreign girl, who had finally awakened to her womanhood and turned the fancy of this hotheaded young man, never received from him her first kiss in her short, rough life. In the end, together as one heart, the Troopers rescued their brother-in-arms and won their battle. But for the first time in his solitary life, Ryo had gained just one, small, brief chance to open his heart to someone he had quickly grown to liking so much, only to lose her so utterly and completely. Happy Birthday, Ryo...

"NO! LUNAAAHHH!!!"

His barriers were finally broken, and the moon's surface glowed fully in triumph.

His emotions wrung raw, an assault of impulses and driving passions smashed into Ryo's subconscious, and raided his fantasies. Swept up by his tears and anguish, he softly pressed the warmth of his lips against hers, in a vain, yet desperate attempt to breathe life once more into Luna's body and bring her back into his arms from oblivion. A blistering aura of white-hot crashed through his head and consumed his senses, while pulsating waves of fever ravaged his flesh. A hardening desire began to swell, and then...

DARKNESS!

Drenched in a sheet of sweat, Ryo snapped upright out of his reverie and nearly fell out of his bed. His crop of black hair was matted close to his head, while beads of perspiration hung from their ends. A few rivets streaked down his face while other droplets continued their trail, past defined abdominals and collected into a tiny pool of moisture at the base of his navel. Deep red pajama bottoms also stuck to his body, darkened further by a mixture of cold sweat and an unexpected hot release, resulting in a warm, sweet sensation that had filled his loins. Ryo's eyes were opened, but he was still half-dreaming. Although his throat burned and his lungs felt painfully tight from hyperventilation, slowly, Ryo began to breathe more deeply, and with each breath he took, his eyes shifted more into focus. It was still dark, but now he could make out the white patches of fur in Byakuen's out-stretched body. The huge black-and-white tiger had been sleeping across the floor near Ryo's bed, on top of his own personalized floor mat with the word TIGER running through it in big, bold letters. But now alerted by Ryo's cries, the Bengal was wide-awake and began to deeply but softly growl. Ryo saw Byakuen's concern reflecting back at him, the way all cats' eyes eerily illuminate through the darkness.

Ryo fumbled for the switch to the nightlight that sat next to his bed. Now sitting on the mattress' edge, he took a moment, waiting for the dull throb in his head to clear. Then taking his hand and in one smooth motion, he wiped the sweat out of his eyes and raked his fingers through his thick hair. When he started to feel the weight of his legs beneath him again, he weakly stood up and walked over to Byakuen, giving a reassuring huge around the scruff of the big cat's neck.

"Don't worry, it-its just another bad dream. Y'know, you'd think you would be used to this by now", but as he spoke, Ryo felt the irony of his own words. "Sorry Byakuen — you'd think I would be used to this by now."

Slowly he stood up once more and took a few steps to walk away. Still with some shakiness, Ryo managed to untie the drawstrings that held the bottoms around his waist, peel down the sticky-wet material and kick it to the side. Exposed was more bare skin that glistened a golden sheen, emphasizing the lean sinews that flexed firmly through his gluteals and down into his thighs and calves, the result from his years of training with the mystical mountain monk, Kaosu, and becoming the bearer of the red yoroi, Rekka.

Still feeling awkward about the palpitations and the developing clamminess between his legs, Ryo treaded across the bedroom floor, out the door through a small hallway and veered off into the connecting bathroom. Although the walls were neatly lined with smooth tile squares, and the plumbing fixtures that were electronically updated and modern, the bathroom was nevertheless done in the traditional Japanese style or ofuro, complimenting the outer quaintness of the cabin and the serenity of the mountains. More square and generous in size and depth than its western counterpart, the bathtub was already filled and waiting to offer its relaxing contents, heated and maintained solely for the purpose to melt away any of the day's built-up tensions while cleansing the bather's spirit. Ryo enjoyed his hot baths, particularly after a day of trekking through the mountains, but he knew that any amount of soaking would never give him the kind of relief he urgently needed from the night's pressing wants and frustrations. So instead, he sat on the stool in the small washing area adjacent to the soaking bathtub and snatched the hand shower that hung directly in front of him from its wall attachment. Bracing slightly in anticipation, Ryo took a quick breath. With a twist of the faucet, he was immediately hit by a full shower blast of wet-cold, slapping him directly across the face. He had hoped that the cold shock would snap his mind clear and knock out the residual heat that still kindled through him –- especially the hardness that, despite his earlier release, continued its swelling in his groin. For the next several minutes he continued passing the hand shower from top to toe, goose bumps replacing the semi-erection, thus helping him regain his control.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Ryo emerged from the bathroom and returned to his bedroom, towel wrapped snuggly around his waste while another hung loosely over his head, covering his dampened hair and shoulders. In spite of the cold shower, however, she was still on his mind. Then struck by a curious thought, he stopped in the middle of the room, and with a slight hesitation, walked over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Hidden deep at the back of its bottom, Ryo retrieved a brightly colored orange scarf. Despite what everyone believed, it was the one thing —- the only thing of hers that he managed to save that night from destruction. His chest began to tighten again, and a mournful lump raised in his throat as feelings of bittersweetness swelled in his eyes:

"I-I...I am a Samurai Trooper...but I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry...Luna", he softly whispered, as he gently brought the silken memories to his lips. "I wish you were here."

As the minutes slipped by, Ryo continued to stare deeply into the material that draped his hand; he had fallen under its spell and was now completely mesmerized by its sensation of silk. Then something seemed to snap from within his head. With a gasp, Ryo felt the temporal world around him exploded in a hot white flash. His body was covered in another cold sweat, but this time he trembled violently from a cutting chill that sliced into his mind and burrowed deeply in his soul. Between outstretched arms, he leaned his weight against the dresser and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the turbulence around him in vain. His uncontrollable racking shook through the dresser, causing the small picture frame that sat on its top to topple over. Nearly lapsing into unconsciousness, Ryo could feel the weight of his own body being dragged down to the floor, as if pulled by the undertow of some unseen current. Still he somehow managed to keep his head and shoulders pressed against the lower part of the dresser for support, desperately panting for air.

When the dizziness and pain finally stopped, Ryo slowly peeled open his eyes; the intense blue of their irises shifted here and there and made a careful sweep of his bedroom, confirming that, indeed, nothing had changed and that everything was in its proper place. Then his eyes gazed down into his hand and registered that he was still clutching the scarf —- and the impossibility screeched into his brain:

"NO! I-IT CAN'T BE..."

To Be Continued...

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I hope you've enjoyed my beginning chapter. Does it have potential as a full-blown series? (Please say YES!) You can e-mail me at animecookie@attbi.com if you're too shy to post a review. And thanks for giving me your reading time.